Song of the Dragonborn
by DarkenedFantasy
Summary: Not all stories of the Dragonborn begin in honor and nobility. To witness the rise of Dovah, there must first be a mighty fall. Herein lies the song of Dovahkiin, one who seeks redemption for false blame as they fight not only the return of the dragons, but darker forces in Oblivion as well.
1. Prelude

_Song of the Dragonborn- Prelude  
><em>

The sun shone high and bright over the docks near Solitude as three members of the Imperial Legion walked side-by-side in ambulatory procession towards the proud, stern bow of the ship that awaited them. The Katariah. The ship which would carry many of the Legion's finest, including many of the Penitus Oculatus, far away from Skyrim and its many brewing troubles.

Indeed, the city of Solitude itself had been rocked by numerous misfortunes of late. Young Vittoria Vici, soon to be happily wed to Asgeir Snow-Shod, was brutally murdered by her own husband at her wedding. Many who disapproved of the match tutted under their breath that she should have expected such an end from marrying a Nord from The Rift, widely known to be a wretched hive of villainous scum. But, personal opinions on the match aside, all of Solitude spared words of pity and sympathy for the butchered bride.

But their words of pity did not hold out long, for soon the city of Solitude was rocked by not just one, but two high-profile assassination attempts. It was these latest in the string of deaths which preoccupied the thoughts of the Legionnaires approaching the Katariah.

"It's simply beyond belief. The utter cheek of it! Sending an assassin to pose as The Gourmet in an attempt to poison our Emperor!" Silanus, the lone Imperial amidst the three legionnaires, shouted, pounding one fist in an outstretched hand for emphasis. "Lucky Commander Maro saw it coming!"

"Yeah, lucky for him." Mohana, a Bosmer and recent addition to the Penitus Oculatus scoffed. "He gets the accolades of having 'stopped the Dark Brotherhood', and what do the rest of us get? Guard duty as we try spiriting the Emperor out of here. Can't see why he's bothering, given that he and most of the rest of our brothers-in-arms wiped their sanctuary out completely."

"To be honest, I'm more worried about what happened in the Blue Palace." Giselle, a softspoken Breton opined. "Poor Elisif must be absolutely heartbroken right now, with what happened to her husband..."

"Ahh right, Ulfric Stormcloak's assassination of High King Torygg." Mohana replied slowly. She'd only just then recalled in the midst of all the other deaths the Stormcloaks' most brazen move towards inciting Skyrim into endless civil war. "I'm sure Elisif will survive without her husband."

"Can we just stop talking about this?" Giselle asked with an abrupt shiver. "I don't like this. Talking about all this death when we're about to board the ship is giving me a bad omen."

In response to her friend's worried comment, Mohana snorted derisively. "Oh please. It's not like the Dark Brotherhood is going to find a way to sneak onboard the most well-guarded ship in Skyrim."

As Silanus joined Mohana in her laughter, the three legionnaires were hailed by a young, gray-skinned figure who was charging for the docks in robes befitting a student of the College of Winterhold. "W-Wait! Wait for me!"

The three legionnaires stopped in their tracks and turned back to face the new arrival with humoring smiles on their faces. Mohana's smile at the new guest was the widest of all, and only grew wider as the figure pulled back her hood. The Dunmer standing before the three of them had the usual severe features that characterized a Dunmeri face, which her half-shaved brown hair did nothing to conceal. Her eyes were a deep red, their intensity almost unnerving even as a smile lit her face.

"It's about time you caught up with us, Savri." Mohana teased, ruffling Savri's hair. "I was beginning to think you'd miss the ship."

Savri took a few moments to respond, as her voice was nearly stolen from her by panting. "Ran here as quickly as I could... Knew you would need healers... in case the... skeevers... infest and infect the ship..."

"Well then, let's go ahead and board before we truly _do_ get left behind." Silanus groaned testily, stepping onto the ship.

"Silanus is right, we should be going now." Giselle concurred, following the Imperial.

"C'mon, Savri." Mohana invited as she bounded up the gangplank.

Savri stared off into the distance for a very long moment before boarding after her companions. The gangplank was retracted, and at last, the Katariah set sail.

* * *

><p>The low embers of dying torches on the walls barely illuminated the faces of the only two legionnaires to still be up at this ungodly hour on a Tirdas. The flickering red light lent Mohana's silvery blonde hair an almost eerie glow as it cast the darker features of Silanus into deep shadow. Mohana let out a groan of annoyance as she laid down the cards in her hand. "Three Dragon's Heads and two Atronachs. Full house. And you?"<p>

Despite his shadowcast face, Mohana could easily see Silanus's grin as he laid down his hand. "Thane, Jarl, High King, Emperor, Septim. Royal flush. Pay up."

"Damn it to Oblivion!" Mohana cursed, removing her Imperial Gauntlets. They joined the pile containing her boots, her ring, her helm, Silanus's necklace, boots and helm. "If the cards don't stop hating me, I'll be naked before long."

Silanus smirked. "Not that anyone would mind seeing that, I'm sure."

Mohana's deep green eyes glowed menacingly as she tilted her head towards her friend and opponent in game. "Got a fever for Bosmer flesh, do you?"

Silanus shrugged, his brown eyes alight with humor as he leaned back in his chair. "What can I say? I like my women pointy-eared and fiery."

Mohana chose to ignore her comrade's lecherous stare in favor of asking, "Speaking of pointy-eared women, where did Savri get off to? I haven't seen her since dinner."

Silanus shrugged. "Last I heard, she and Giselle were going to sick bay. Apparently the staff missed some skeevers and now we have some men infected with disease."

"What a surprise. They missed some." Mohana deadpanned. "Well, at least we have healers onboard. Still... they've been gone an awfully long time. Maybe someone should take a look."

"They're probably just busy trying to get rid of the diseases. I think you worry too much."

The conversation was abruptly cut short by the sound of a loud clatter from the deck beneath them.

"What was that?" Mohana asked slowly.

"Probably just the damn skeevers messing around in the storeroom." Silanus replied, shuffling the cards on the table. "Come on, let's just get back to the game."

Mohana shook her head. "That definitely doesn't sound like skeevers to me. I'm going downstairs to investigate. And if it is skeevers, I'll kill the little buggers."

As Mohana pulled on her lost pieces of armor, Silanus let out a bark of a laugh. "You're going downstairs to kill a skeever infestation in the storeroom. All right. Best be careful you don't get yourself dragged into some grand adventure while you're at it!"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." The sarcasm in Mohana's 'laughter' was obvious. "Make yourself useful and go look for Giselle and Savri. I've got a bad feeling about all this."

Mohana was right in her guess that the loud noise was not the work of skeevers. But nothing in her training could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her in the storeroom. Blood painted the floor of the deck and the shelves and walls of the ship. Lying face-down in the floor was a figure in the robes of a College mage. Her heart dropped in her chest, and she ran for the unconscious body, pulling back its hood.

The face that met her was not Savri's, but the face of a lowly Dunmer crew member who she'd seen working in the kitchens before. She heaved a sigh of relief even as her unease grew in her stomach. _She looks like she's been stabbed. Brutally. As has everyone else on this level. What in Oblivion is going on?_

Barely taking the time to properly appreciate the grisly spectacle in the storeroom, she drew her sword and ran upstairs only to find a similar scene to what she'd seen below. Bodies sprawled on the floor, blood spattering the walls and tables overturned, weapons lost as though stolen. Room after room after room she came to as she ran through the open doors of the ship were painted crimson in blood.

She hoped she'd catch sight of a living Savri and Giselle in the sick bay. But instead, all she found were slaughtered bodies. Including Giselle's. Mohana knelt by the dead Breton's side, her grief outweighing her ability to stand as she gazed hopelessly at the last ghastly expression of shock and betrayal on Giselle's face. Mohana didn't know how long she'd knelt there before reason finally caught up to her. _If there's an assassin onboard, I need to tell the captain!_

Looking back for only a brief moment, Mohana charged out of the sick bay and towards the normally locked door of Captain Avidius. When she arrived there, she found the door standing open and Avidius laying back in his chair, a ribbon of blood flowing down from his slit throat. Refusing to allow grief and panic to get the better of her, Mohana ran instead for the war-chambers of Lieutenant Salvarus. There, she found a similar sight to that of Captain Avidius- a corpse sprawled across the war-table, painting the whole of Skyrim red with blood.

_Wait a minute..._ Mohana thought as a terrible realization hit her. _Captain Avidius and Lieutenant Salvarus were the only two people carrying keys for the... Emperor's Quarters... Gods, no, the Emperor!_

She ran for the Emperor's Quarters and found the door closed. Pressing her ear to the door, she could hear the Emperor's voice interacting with someone else's. A woman.

"-must be punished for their treachery. Once you've been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?"

"I'll... consider your request."

"Thank you. Now, on to the business at hand, I suppose."

_Business at hand? Wait, he isn't going to fight back against-?_ Mohana thought in shock. _No! I have to get in there and stop it!_

She threw open the unlocked door and charged in with her sword drawn. "In the name of the Empire, I demand that you cease and desist right now, assassin!"

The next moment seemed to come to Mohana only as flashes of memory when she looked back upon it later. One moment, she was staring bravely at the one who would kill their emperor- the next, her sword was on the ground, her knees turned to water as she fell to the ground. The dagger slowly drew across the Emperor's throat, leaving him a fallen, bleeding heap on the ground. A figure in the robes of the Dark Brotherhood stood behind him, a twisted smirk across her face. A figure with a face Mohana knew only too well.

She said to herself, again and again, that it simply couldn't be so as the figure behind the Emperor vanished. But there was no denying what her eyes had seen. The assassin, the surviving member of a dead order, was none other than her comrade-in-arms Savri.

* * *

><p>Sithis would be most pleased with this offering of appeasement and blood. Of that, Savri was certain as she crept silently along the exterior deck. She was visible for only the briefest of moments as she slew her targets before vanishing once again, leaving the crew and her former comrades in a state of blind panic. As she drew her dagger across Silanus's throat, she heard a strangled cry of grief and fury coming from the entryway to the lower decks.<p>

Before she had the chance to properly react, a blade of finest Imperial Steel rammed itself through her stomach at the command of a heavily weeping Bosmer.

"I trusted you!" the Bosmer screamed, driving the blade in deeper. "We all trusted you, and in the end you betrayed us-!"

Savri let her weakness get the better of her, to fall limp on the sword piercing her. "Fools..."

It was the last word she would speak to the Bosmer. At least for now.

* * *

><p>"What a damned mess."<p>

"I'm with you. High King Torygg, dead. The Emperor, dead. The entire crew of the ship that was supposed to protect him, dead. All except for that Bosmer girl.

"There any more bodies to add to the pile?"

"Nah, that's the last of them."

"What about that Dunmer? Savri? I can't see her body anywhere."

"Eh, the wood elf probably just chucked her overboard when all was said and done. Just check her off the list so we can cremate the bodies and be done with it."

"All right then."

Satisfied their list had been properly dealt with, the two guards of Solitude tasked with cleaning up the remnants of this whole bloody affair walked away, the pile of slaughtered bodies smoldering behind them, filling the air with acrid smoke.

* * *

><p>It had all worked out much better than expected. Amaund Motierre hadn't known what the results of this assassination would be, but he knew that whatever happened would work somewhat in his favor. He hadn't expected to be named temporary emperor while the lineage of Titus Mede was properly sorted out.<p>

But now there was a certain... problem. Namely that the people of Skyrim were panicking from the thought of an emperor's assassin being able to slaughter a whole ship, escape unscathed, and get away with it. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt, rather than saw, the presence of the assassin he'd hired to become the instrument of his seizure of power. "We need a scapegoat. If no one is visibly punished for the murder of the emperor, the people will get suspicious."

The figure in the shadows laughed softly. "I already thought of that. Why do you think I left one of them alive?"

Amaund Motierre raised a brow in impressed surprise as his hired assassin's logic reached his comprehension. "Ahh I see. You truly are a professional, accounting for all possible outcomes. Very well then. Yes. We'll use her."

The news was all over Skyrim by the next week. A young Bosmer member of the Penitus Oculatus deliberately allowing an assassin to slip past her vigilant eyes and slaughter everyone onboard the outbound Katariah. Including good Emperor Titus Mede II. The trial, if it could even be called that, was swift. Judgement moreso. The sentence: death by public execution. The place: the small town of Helgen, where she, along with another usurper who'd see the Empire destroyed, would meet her fate.


	2. Rhapsody -Movement I-

_Song of the Dragonborn  
>Rhapsody<br>Movement I_

The steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves, the clinking and clanking of the armor of the Imperials flanking them and the creaking of the wagon's wheels were merely a part of the gentle tapestry of ambient noise that enveloped the prisoners on their way to their destination. Aboard the second wagon were no less than six people, with an equal number riding in the wagon ahead. Of those six, two were blond Nords dressed in clear Stormcloak armor. One man, in clothes fit for a Jarl, was gagged, and glared furiously at a point on the ground in front of him. One was a Nord, dressed in the rags of a commoner, another a Bosmer in the rags of a prisoner. The last figure, a dark-skinned Breton, was dressed in the finery of a nobleman and was only just then making his return to consciousness for the trip.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake!" one of the pair of blond Stormcloaks hailed as the black-haired Breton blinked and looked around in utter confusion.

"Where-?" he asked, trying to pull his wrists apart as if he'd only just then realized he'd been bound.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" the same Stormcloak asked, studying the Breton closely as he tried to regain his bearing. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there."

The Bosmer lifted her head from its depressed tilt as the brown-haired Nord spat, "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until _you_ came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

The horse thief turned his attention to the Breton. "You there. You and me? We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

The second Stormcloak's fist clenched, but his comrade in arms gave both he and the horse thief a withering gaze. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

"I'd ascertained that much." the Breton said with a shrug. "Any idea where they're-"

"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver, a member of the Imperial Legion shouted towards his charges.

The imposed silence lasted only a moment before the horse thief was making conversation again. "So what's with _him_, huh?" he asked, indicating the gagged Nord in Jarl's clothing.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the _true_ High King!" the first Stormcloak warned sharply, his fury echoed in his comrade in arms' eyes.

Realization dawned upon the horse thief. "Ulfric...? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you, then... oh gods, where are they taking us?"

The first Stormcloak's resignation to his fate was clear as he slowly answered, "I don't know where we're going... but Sovngarde awaits."

At the mention of the Nordic afterlife, the horse thief began to panic. "No... this can't be happening. This _isn't_ happening-!"

It was at this provocation that the second Stormcloak finally spoke. "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

Defensiveness was his reply. "Why do you care?"

It was the first Stormcloak who answered for his comrade. "A Nord's last thoughts... should be of home."

A brief pause, then a hesitant reply. "Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."

"And you?" the second Stormcloak prompted, his eyes resting upon the Breton.

"I'm from High Rock. I was trying to flee to Cyrodiil when I got caught with the rest of you." the Breton replied, with far more casualty than was appropriate for the circumstances. "What about you, then? Where're you from?"

"Kynesgrove, originally. I moved into Windhelm after I joined the Stormcloaks." the second Stormcloak answered. He then turned his attention to the Bosmer woman. "And what about you? You've been very quiet."

"You were told to be silent!" the Imperial riding behind them warned sharply.

Shortly after being barked once more into silence, the carriage driver addressed General Tullius, who was crossing the bridge in the entryway to their final destination. "General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's get this over with." General Tullius replied, glaring down at the prisoners riding into the city.

Reactions varied as the horse thief ran through his list of the Divines to pray to for help. Ulfric and his Stormcloaks seemed content to ignore him, resigned to their ultimate fate. The Bosmer rolled her eyes at the unseemly display. The Breton let out a derisive laugh in response, and said, "I would think by now the Divines have abandoned us."

Choosing to ignore both thief and Breton, the first Stormcloak chose to voice his contempt for their situation. "Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with them. Damn elves. I bet _they_ had something to do with this!"

Silence fell across the wagon as each person therein turned to examine the meeting between Imperial and Altmer going on behind them.

It was the fist Stormcloak who once again broke the silence, having finally recognized their location. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod's still making the mead with Juniper berries mixed in..."

With a sigh of sad remniscence, the second Stormcloak spoke. "Funny... when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe..."

The murmurs and whispers of the townspeople, as well as the comments of a curious child, fell upon deaf ears as the wagon caravan slowly ground itself to a halt.

"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked, looking around in blind panic.

"Why do you think? End of the line." the first Stormcloak commented. He turned his attention to Breton and Bosmer and said "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

As they all disembarked, the horse thief's panic grew more obvious. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"

It was the until then silent Bosmer who scoffed at the thief's sniveling. "Face your death with some _courage_, thief."

The horse thief looked pleadingly towards both Stormcloaks and the Breton as he begged, "You've got to tell them we _weren't_ with you! This is a mistake!"

The Imperial Captain's voice cut through the air like a finely sharpened blade as she ordered, "Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time!"

The first Stormcloak scoffed behind the Bosmer. "Empire _loves_ their damn lists."

For this comment, he received a nod of agreement.

"Hadvar, the names. Call them now." the captain ordered.

Hadvar unrolled his scroll containing the list of names and pulled out a quill. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."

As Ulfric advanced towards the executioner's block, the two Stormcloaks serving under him bowed their heads in respect. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood."

The first of the Stormcloaks to speak advanced towards the block in stoic silence.

"Torik of Kynesgrove."

The second Stormcloak to speak followed after his brother in arms, though he levied a contemptuous "Thalmor lapdog!" at Hadvar as he passed.

"Mohana of Valenwood."

Mohana did as she was commanded and advanced for the gathering crowd at the executioner's block. She looked neither at the Imperial Soldiers, nor at the Stormcloaks soon to join her in death, but at a fixed point somewhere on the ground in front of her. At least, until the next name was called.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir the horse-thief cried out in fear, starting to charge down the road past the captain. He ignored her cries to halt with a defiant "You're not going to kill me!"

She gave the command, and Lokir of Rorikstead fell dead, his body turned into a pincushion by the legion's finest archers. "Anyone _else_ feel like running?"

Hadvar crossed the last name off his list, and saw that one prisoner remained unaccounted for. "Wait. You there. Step forward."

The Breton did as he was bade, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at the Imperial before him.

"Who are you?" Hadvar asked.

The Breton took a long moment to answer, as if he were debating on giving truth or falsehood. The sun glinted in his brown eyes as he finally replied, "My name is Celestine."

Hadvar nodded in understanding as he penned the name. "You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"

Celestine scoffed. "You could say that."

"Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list." Hadvar wondered, looking to his commanding officer for advice.

With a look on her face that could only imply some personal slight, the captain ordered, "Forget the list! He goes to the block!"

Both Celestine and Hadvar blinked in surprise, taken aback at the reaction. "Surely this is an overreaction-!" Celestine protested as Hadvar replied, "By your orders, captain."

Hadvar gave Celestine a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."

Once again, the Breton's reply was a derisive scoff. "Oh yes, _please_ do, I'm sure my father would _love_ to spit on my ashes."

With that last comment, he joined his brothers and sisters in death.

Satisfied that all the prisoners had been gathered, General Tullius turned his attention to the first target of his rage. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen would call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"

The proud Jarl of Windhelm's response was muffled by his gag.

Tullius's fists clenched. "You started this war, and plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace! And as for _you-_" he turned his attention to Mohana. "You were charged with guarding Emperor Titus Mede II's life, but instead, you allowed an assassin onto the boat and did nothing to save our emperor. Skyrim is falling apart because of _your_ neglect!"

Despite the weight of the allegation being laid upon her, Mohana did not flinch. She simply stared back at a man who'd once been her commanding officer with an unreadable expression.

The sound of a distant, unearthly roar filled the air, sending shivers down the spine of nearly every person present.

"What was that?" Hadvar asked, giving voice to the thought nearly every person present had.

"It's nothing. Carry on." General Tullius ordered with the air of someone ready to end an uncomfortable situation.

"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain answered with zeal. She turned her attention to the priestess of Arkay standing next to her and said, "Give them their rites."

The Priestess of Arkay nodded, and raised her hands in praise. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

A red-haired Stormcloak standing near Torik groaned aloud and stepped towards the executioner's block with a testy "For the love of Talos, _shut up_ and let's get this _over with_."

The priestess of Arkay, annoyed that her attempt at good faith had been so rudely rescinded, sniped back, "As you wish."

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" the Stormcloak goaded as he was pushed down to the block. As the axe raised over his head, he glared at his executioner and said, "_My_ ancestors are _smiling_ at me, Imperials. Can yours say the same?"

The axe fell, and with it, the Stormcloak's head.

"You Imperial bastards!" Torik exclaimed, his fists clenched in fury.

Despite cries favoring the Empire from the crowd, Ralof was admiring of his comrade's bravery. "As fearless in death as he was in life..."

The captain's head inclined sharply towards Mohana as she ordered, "Next, the traitorous wood elf!"

All eyes landed on the disgraced Bosmer as Hadvar said, "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

She stepped forward without hesitation, fear, or complaint. She'd done her weeping and screaming in rage over the unfairness of her plight during her imprisonment, and it had done no good. Now, she was resigned. As her head was forced to the block, she closed her eyes and waited for the end.

The same strange roar from earlier filled the air like a wall of sound, only much louder than before. Now, it was accompanied by the sound of large wingbeats.

"What in Oblivion is _that_?" General Tullius asked, fear and shock tinging his voice.

"Sentries! What do you see?" the captain asked, her voice still grating against Mohana's ears.

"I-It's in the clouds-!"

Mohana dared to open her eyes and look up at the sudden burst of panic infiltrating the crowd. What she caught sight of was first the executioner raising his axe to finish the job. And then she saw an enormous, grey, spiky reptile with gigantic wings and long, sharp fangs. _Is that a-  
><em>  
>"Dragon!" one of the Stormcloaks cried out, confirming Mohana's thoughts.<p>

The executioner stumbled away from the block. The dragon roared and the sky darkened, lit by falling and fiery meteors. What happened next could only be described as all Oblivion breaking loose. Everyone, Imperial, Stormcloak, prisoner or civilian was running about in blind panic. Mohana's vision blurred and her head ached as the powerful voice of the dragon filled her head. Amidst the din, she heard Ralof's voice ordering her to follow him. Seeing no better option at the time, she ran inside the tower after him, followed by Torik and Celestine.

Her vision was slowly clearing, the pounding in her head subsiding as Ralof spoke with his commander. "Jarl Ulfric! What was that thing? Can the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." The now unbound, un-gagged Ulfric replied.

"That thing looked pretty damn real to me." Celestine concurred, something between fear and excitement dancing in his eyes.

The Jarl looked around at those accompanying him before ordering, "We need to move! Now!"

"Up through the tower! Let's go!" Ralof said, charging ahead of the group of five and leading the way. His path- as well as everyone else's- was halted by the crumble of the solid stone walls like they were children's blocks of wood.

The massive dragon poked his head through the wall, and scorched the walls and floor with flames with a shriek of "_Yol Toor Shul!_"

Seeing the opening of the wall- as well as the opening of a collapsing house next to the tower- as an opportunity, Ralof changed tactics. "Jump through the roof! Quickly now!"

Mohana saw Celestine give Ralof a look as if he were insane before he leapt after the Nord. Mohana was the next to follow, throwing caution and safety to the winds as she prayed her agile feet would not fail her.

Once she'd safely descended through the burned-out house, she came across Hadvar guiding a little boy away from the flame-breathing monstrosity before trying to retreat with the rest of the men. With her headache and vision issues returning, the dragon's shrieking filling her mind, Mohana couldn't see the Stormcloaks who'd led her thus far. Hadvar was the only person she could make out in the chaos, so she followed after him.

"Still alive, prisoner?" Hadvar asked as he looked back at Mohana. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way!"

It was truly a shame to behold what was likely once a peaceful little village reduced to nothing but flames, rubble, and chaos. Storefonts and houses and taverns and lives all shattered in this one terrible instance. And the damage simply kept growing more severe.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar ordered. Mohana complied without hesitation as the dragon's wing crashed into the wall adjacent to her. The breath of flame scorched the ground again, and it was all Mohana could do to keep herself from losing consciousness.

The Imperial Soldiers who tried bravely to take care of the dragon were swiftly losing heart as all their best efforts came to naught. Mohana knew she couldn't afford to look back if she wanted to survive. And indeed, she didn't want to look back and witness the slaughter of many of those she'd once called brothers-in-arms. So she kept her gaze forward. Which meant that she saw Ralof, Torik, Ulfric and the rest of the Stormcloak entourage making their escape.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar screamed, brandishing his sword.

"We're escaping, Hadvar! You won't stop us this time!" Ralof shouted in reply, already charging off towards the keep's back entrance.

"Fine!" Hadvar spat. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

"Sir!" an Imperial soldier greeted, running up to Hadvar. "We need to pursue the traitors and stop them from escaping."

"_No_, Gregorius!" Hadvar shot back. "I'm more concerned with getting us all out of here alive. We can't pursue the Stormcloaks _dead_."

"Besides, it looks like an agent of the Thalmor is already chasing after them." a second Imperial added, gesturing towards a woman in Thalmor robes in hot pursuit of the fleeing Stormcloaks.

"Thank you, Zedrick. Now, let's move!"

Mohana followed after Zedrick, Gregorius and Hadvar as they ran into the Helgen Keep. Gregorius was about to shut and bolt the door behind him when he heard a voice cry out, "Wait!"

Celestine, the Breton prisoner, threw himself through the door just before Gregorius could slam it in his face, landing sprawled on the ground. As he struggled to his feet, Hadvar took inventory of the situation.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it." he noted, looking over his entourage. Two of his fellow Imperials, a traitor to the Empire, and a random imprisoned Breton. "Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"

Gregorius cast a condescending glare at the two prisoners in their midst. "Can either of you fight?"

"Why don't you cut our hands free and find out?" Celestine growled in response, narrowing his eyes.

_I used to be one of the high-ranking officers of the Empire, and you have the audacity to-!_ Mohana thought, barely managing to keep the reins on her temper as she, too, glared at Gregorius.

Zedrick sighed. "The Breton does have a point, Gregory. We won't be able to see if they can fight if their hands are still bound. Besides, this is a bad situation all around. We don't need to antagonize the few people in our midst."

Gregory, appropriately cowed into silence, merely nodded his assent.

Hadvar let out a long-suffering sigh, and invited the prisoners to come to him. "Come here. Let's see if we can get those bonds off."

A brief flick of the knife later, and Mohana and Celestine were both rubbing their wrists in order to regain proper circulation.

"There should be plenty of gear around. I'm going to see if I can find something for those burns."

Gregory sighed. "While Hadvar is searching for potions, Zedrick, come here. I can tell that bite you took earlier broke your arm."

Celestine raised an eyebrow as Gregory laid a hand on Zedrick's arm, surrounding it with the soft yellow-white glow of arcane energy. "You're a mage?"

"I deal with healing, yes." Gregory replied tersely. "What of it?"

Celestine shrugged. "Nothing of it. I was simply surprised to find another student of the craft."

"You should arm yourself." Mohana warned the Breton, now that she'd pulled on some ill-fitting officers' armor and grabbed for herself a blade and dagger. "We don't know what we might find down here. And if that dragon manages to bring the keep down on us, we need to be ready to fight it."

Celestine merely smirked in reply. "Oh, I've no need for weapons or armor. Not physical ones, anyway."

With two brief gestures of his hand, the Breton was covered in a shield of pale green magic and holding a phantasmal purple blade. "This spell renders my flesh as impervious as stone. And I've felled my fair share of foes with this conjured blade. Besides, bound weapons leave no evidence, save for the blood."

"You seem very... open with your criminal past." Mohana commented slowly, not sure now whether she wanted to trust this new companion with her life.

"What's the point of hiding it at this point? I'm wanted in High Rock, the Cyrodiil border patrol is waiting for me, the only place my father has no power or ties is here in Skyrim. So long as I don't leave, I have amnesty here." Celestine replied with a casual shrug.

"So how did you come to be caught in that ambush, then?" Mohana asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"It's a long story and it has a lot to do with politics. And we need to keep moving." Celestine replied, eyes darting from side to side.

_So defensive about it... he must've done something pretty bad in High Rock to try to flee to Cyrodiil._ Mohana mused, looking the Breton up and down.

"The prisoner is right. We should keep moving." Hadvar concurred, having just returned from a fruitless potion search. "There will be potions stored further in the keep, I'm sure."

* * *

><p>Ralof and Torik gasped for breath as they struggled to keep up with the Jarls's swift footsteps. They had no idea how long they'd been running from Helgen and it wreckage after being unable to break into the Keep. Merely that they had no choice but to keep moving.<p>

"So where are we bound after this, my Jarl?" Ralof asked curiously.

"I am returning to Windhelm. It would be best if we parted ways and laid low for a while before meeting up again." Jarl Ulfric replied solemnly. "I must ask that none of you come with me. Better I fall alone as a symbol than bring my men down with me."

Torik nodded. His superior's logic was very clear. "I understand, my Jarl. Talos guide your steps on your journey."

"And the same to you." Ulfric replied before setting off on the long road towards Windhelm on foot.

Ralof and Torik exchanged a brief look. "Where are you bound, my friend?" Ralof asked his brother in arms. "Better I know now so we don't cross paths until we meet in Windhelm under Jarl Ulfric's banner once more."

"It would be foolish to risk going to Kynesgrove at this point." Torik replied reasonably, stroking his chin in thought. "By now, I'm sure the Thalmor and the Empire already know precisely which house's door to break down, should I return home. I think I'll be making my way up towards Winterhold. I've friends there at the college, and besides, the people of Winterhold are friends of the Stormcloaks. It would be safer there than elsewhere. Or Elsweyr."

Ralof laughed briefly at Torik's joke. "Yes, you and cats don't get along well as I recall. I think I'll be heading for Riverwood, myself. I've family I can call on there."

Ralof clapped his fellow Stormcloak on the back. "Safe travels, my friend. Talos guide you."

Torik nodded in acceptance of the blessing before voicing something that had nagged at the back of his mind ever since they fled Helgen. "By the way, did you happen to see that Thalmor agent?"

Ralof stopped in his tracks. "What Thalmor agent?"

Torik rubbed his temples with a sigh of agitation. "It's probably just my imagination, but as we were running from Helgen, I could have sworn a figure in Thalmor robes was following behind us. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but..."

"But if not, best we both take the meandering paths to our destinations, just in case." Ralof said quietly. "Let's get moving, then. We can't risk waiting around here."

Torik nodded. "Agreed. Talos guide you, my friend."

With that final farewell, the two Stormcloaks parted ways, and could only pray their paths would be free of Thalmor and Imperials searching for them.

* * *

><p>To say that traveling through the Helgen Keep and its underground passageway to the outside world had been tense would be to make a severe understatement. With the path blocked by Stormcloaks trying to flee execution and being unwilling to negotiate a temporary truce, the many spiders with dripping fangs and sticky webs and a sleeping cave bear barring their exit, the struggles they faced externally were the least of their worries.<p>

Gregory and Celestine were two forces completely unable to reach an understanding of one another. Celestine found Gregory's constant voiced disapproval of his tactics grating. As grating as Gregory found the Breton's smug attitude with each 'cowardly' kill he committed in their journey. Mohana had earned the ire of her Imperial comrades as her aim with a bow proved sometimes less than accurate, accidentally grazing her brothers in arms. Zedrick and Hadvar tried their best to keep the peace as steel and personalities clashed, but ultimately the group of five managed to reach the outside of the cave. They bowed for cover behind some rocks as the menacing shadow of the dragon loomed over their heads.

When at last the shadow had passed, and the roar turned to a distant rumble, Hadvar turned to face the rest of his group. "I think it's finally gone now. We should keep on before it decides to return. But I think it would be best if we each parted ways."

Gregory nodded. "Understood, sir. By your leave, I believe Zedrick and I will be returning to Solitude. We need to see if General Tullius managed to survive the attack."

Hadvar nodded. "That would be acceptable. And understandable. Proceed."

"Er, if I may-?" Celestine cut in. "I would like to go with the two of you to Solitude. It seems like one of the better locations for me to start my new life here in Skyrim. A bustling city like that must have plenty of opportunities for a newcomer to make their fortune."

Gregory's annoyance and disapproval of the idea was written all over his face, but Zedrick cut him off from speaking with a merry, "Of course! The more the merrier. And we could always use a mage like you in the Legion. Been running short on those of late."

When the two Imperials and the Breton began their trek northwards to Solitude, Hadvar turned his attention to Mohana. "I heard... rumors of what happened aboard the Katariah. Amaund Motierre will still be calling for your blood, but after the events here, I can see if General Tullius might be able to sway him into offering you amnesty. If we're clever about it- and if you want to- you might even be able to have a position in the Legion again. You'd have to start from the bottom again, of course, but-"

Mohana's mouth became a grim line. "I'm not so sure I want to trust the Empire after I was nearly put to death for a crime I did not commit."

Hadvar nodded solemnly. "I understand that. If you've nowhere else to go for now, you could always follow me to Riverwood. I have an uncle who works there as a blacksmith so that we might restock on supplies before going our separate ways."

_He doesn't seem like he's going to turn me over to be executed again... and he did help me get out of Helgen when he could have left me to my fate._ Mohana mused as she considered his offer. _And if I've any hope of living past the next week, I'll need food.  
><em>  
>Her reply was slow, but it came. "Very well. I'll go with you to Riverwood. After that, I can't say if we'll cross paths again, but... thank you for your help."<p>


	3. Rhapsody -Movement II-

_Song of the Dragonborn_  
><em>Rhapsody<em>  
><em>Movement II<em>

_I really don't know why I'm bothering to do this._ Mohana thought bitterly as she slowly walked the long road from Riverwood to Whiterun. _I could just go off into the woods and hide for the rest of my days. Live like my parents say they did in Valenwood. Subsist off the animals of the land and live in the trees. _She shivered with a sudden bone-chilling burst of wind that ripped through the air. _Oh who am I kidding? I'd be dead of cold within a week if I tried. I got too used to the comforts of Imperial living.  
><em>  
>Perhaps it was simply a longing for comfort that drove her to accept the task. Perhaps it was the old Penitus Oculatus agent in her, longing for the sense of direction she'd had before the Katariah sent it all to Oblivion. Perhaps it was a fire burning in her to redeem her lost good name. Whatever the true reason, when Alvor and Hadvar mentioned the importance of the Jarl of Whiterun knowing of the dragon attack, she reacted as though on instinct to take the burden of informing him.<p>

So now she wandered along the dirt and stone-carved path to one of the major central holds in Skyrim. One of the few she'd yet to visit in her travels as an Imperial. She heard the clanking of Imperial Armor behind her, and hastily pulled the mage's hood she'd received from Lucan,the Riverwood Trader, over her head.

She hadn't technically had the gold to purchase the item, but Lucan was willing to take a bit of a loss for the fur-lined hood on the condition that Mohana retrieve for him a Golden Claw from a bandit camp in Bleak Falls Barrow. So now she was obligated to deal with two assignments, both in the general direction of Whiterun. She supposed it made the most sense to go to Whiterun first, then sort out where Bleak Falls Barrow was later.

The Imperial Soldiers walking past her said, "Move along, citizen. Imperial business."

Thankful her new disguise of Leather Armor and a hood hadn't been immediately seen through, Mohana gently inclined her head to see what was going on. A Stormcloak soldier, no doubt recaptured from Helgen, was being led to his death by Imperial Soldiers. A part of Mohana felt a pang of sympathy for the rebel as she remembered hearing the impassioned words of the Stormcloaks riding with her to Helgen, as well as those imprisoned in Solitude with her before then. _I understand why they would feel so wronged by what the Empire is doing, and I wish there were another way to go about things, but... I can't risk upsetting the Thalmor. Not after mum and dad. _

She shook her head with a sad sigh before continuing along the path, giving the Imperials a wide berth.

Her eyes were only for the road ahead of her- only for her task. That is, until she felt the ground shaking beneath her feet with the footsteps of a nearby giant harassing the farm she was passing by. Gathered around the giant's feet was a group of about three warriors working in tandem with swords, greatswords and arrows to bring down the monstrous foe. Mohana gasped as she saw the giant raise a club towards one of the farmers, swiftly pulling out her bow and arrows before taking aim at the giant's heart.

_Remember what Faendal taught you. Shut out all outside noise, concentrate. Dominant eye on the prize..._

She loosed the arrow, and watched as it sailed for the giant's chest. While it didn't strike the beast's heart, it penetrated somewhere beneath its ribs. Most likely the lungs, judging from the gurgling cry now coming from the falling giant. The other warriors that had been fighting around the giant's calves scattered as it fell to its knees, where one mighty swing from a greatsword cleaved its head clean off.

Satisfied that the danger had passed, Mohana sheathed her bow, though she swiftly reconsidered her actions as she was approached by a running group of the warriors that had been fighting the giant. In the group was a heavily-muscled young Nord with stubble and shoulder-length brown hair who was clad in heavy steel armor, an Imperial clad in hide armor, and-

Mohana's heart skipped a beat- or five- as she beheld the last member of the hunting party. A Nord woman wearing armor much better suited for sneaking around and showing off the figure than direct combat. Her shoulder-length auburn hair almost glowed in the now-setting sun. Across her face were three green slashes of paint, which only served to accentuate the piercing blue of her eyes. Her figure was beautiful- but also intimidating. _Like a wolf coiled and ready to pounce at its prey._ Mohana thought.

"You there!"

Another few heartbeats skipped as Mohana heard the voice of the hunting party's leader- a voice equally as strong and intimidating as the figure using it. "Yes?"

"You seem like a pretty good shot. I am known as Aela the Huntress. You should come see me at Jorrvaskr sometime if you want to hone your hunting." Aela replied with a somewhat impressed smile towards the Bosmer.

"My name is-" she stopped short of saying 'Mohana' out of habit with the realization that to speak her true name before she was officially pardoned would be absolute suicide. She took a moment to think on what to call herself before deciding, "Ashtoret. Ash for short. I don't have the time to visit right now, but I will gladly go to Jorrvaskr some other time."

The cross between disappointment and haughty dismissal currently writing itself across Aela's face was enough to make Mohana gulp, and wonder if perhaps she should take back her words.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, we'd be glad to hear your songs in our mead hall." Aela replied before tilting her head up towards a massive walled structure off in the distance. "We're heading in the direction of Whiterun, if you'd care to follow us there."

Mohana merely shook her head. "I can find my own way to Whiterun, but thank you for the offer."

Aela nodded in understanding before she turned her back on the Bosmer and continued up the winding pathway towards the walled Hold of Whiterun. Mohana blinked in shock as she watched the Huntress saunter away from her. _Is she purposefully swaying her hips like that, or...?_ She shook her head to clear it. _Focus, Mohana. Get the news about the dragon attack delivered to the Jarl, and then get to finding that blasted Golden Claw. And then, then perhaps I can find a way and a place to hide out until the furor over my execution dies down. _

* * *

><p><em>It's just like being back in the damned Legion<em>, Mohana seethed as she stepped back out of the gates of Whiterun, looking around at the farmland and mountainous scenery. _Do a favor for one person, and suddenly everyone wants you to do something for them. I couldn't just tell them about the dragon attack and get on with my life, no, now I have to find this stupid Dragonstone in addition to the Golden Claw that Lucan lost._

She ran her fingers through her silver-white hair with a sigh of exasperation as she studied her map of Skyrim. _Well, at least the Golden Claw and the Dragonstone are in the same place. Bleak Falls Barrow. Isn't too far of a hike from here either. _She folded the map up and shoved it in her knapsack. _Best just to go and get this over with._

She walked and climbed the whole way, ascending from bright sunlight and flowering greenery to twilight and bone-freezing wind and snow. She took, not the obvious dirt road that might be beset by bandits and other fiends seeking to attack the unwary traveler, but the steep path up what was nearly a sheer cliff face, one that approached the Barrow from behind.

As she reached the massive ancient Nordic temple, she crouched down behind the broadest side of the building. Footsteps were rapidly approaching her hiding place, summoned by the sound of crunching snow and falling pebbles skittering to the ground so far below. Pulling her bow from her back and readying an arrow, Mohana steadied her breath.

She stepped out from behind cover, her eyes zeroing in on an archer a good three hundred feet out. She exhaled slowly, and fired. The small figure of the archer tumbled from its post, crashing to the ground with a 'thump' and drawing the attention of its comrades, who ran from their positions to see about their fallen comrade.

_And while they're otherwise occupied..._ Mohana thought, briefly fighting off a shudder of recollection as she imagined the fear singing through the hearts of the brigands camped outside the Barrow, _I'll go on inside._

Of course, Mohana's recent string of astronomically bad luck would naturally dictate that there be more brigands lying in wait in the massive entrance chamber. Cursing under her breath, Mohana slowly crept towards them, waiting until she was far out of the firelight to loose an arrow. Two arrows later, there were two dead bandits on the floor.

_I wonder if perhaps the Golden Claw is in there..._ Mohana mused, her eyes landing upon a chest near the fire.

The lock on the chest was almost pathetically easy to pick. She threw open the lid, expecting to be met with the shimmer of flame on gold. Instead, she was met with a small assortment of semi-precious gems and potions. _Well that's... the very definition of unhelpful. Looks like I have no choice but to delve further in._

* * *

><p><em>Let it be said for the record that I absolutely loathe these Nordic tombs and their burial customs.<em> Mohana thought bitterly to herself as she stood before the massive three-ringed door which could only be unlocked by the Golden Claw she'd finally managed to wrest from the thief that had taken it.

She'd managed to gain the claw, but not until after she'd entered a lengthy chase with a thief known as Arvel the Swift. Arvel certainly lived up to his name, taking off running as soon as Mohana freed him from the spider web holding him in place. He'd managed to wake up every single Nordic corpse- _I think the locals call them Draugr. _she reflected- in the place. She was fairly adept by now at sticking to the shadows and firing from cover, but with so many torches in the area- not to mention the burning pots which fell and illuminated the massive oil slicks on the floor due to careless zombie archers- it had been nearly impossible to stay hidden from sight. It was all Mohana could do to fill the Draugr full of arrows before they closed the distance between themselves and her, and leave her far more injured than her meager healing skills and potions could heal.

Somehow, despite setting off every single trap in the place, Arvel had managed to run all the way to the key-requiring door before Mohana finally caught up to him and ended him with an arrow between the eyeballs. So now she stood before the door, the Golden Claw being studied in one hand as she traced the fingers of the other hand over the door.

_I wonder if there's some sort of catch here, like there was with those rotating pillars earlier..._ Mohana mused, putting some pressure behind her touches as she traced the outline of the three circles. When she found the innermost ring moving with her fingertips, she realized that she was definitely on the right track.

_So these need to be in some kind of pattern... I wonder if the designs etched on the bottom of the Golden Claw have anything to do with it._ She thought, looking again at the claw in her left hand. The dim torchlight glinted off of the textured surface of the claw, showing to her a bear, a moth, and an owl. _If the order goes from top to bottom on the door as well, then that should be the sequence that unlocks the door. If those same designs are there._

Much to her delight, Mohana found that the designs on both claw and door were a perfect match for one another. She set about making the pattern on the door match the pattern of the claw, and waited when she was finished.

_Nothing's happening..._ she mused to herself after a long moment of standing there and staring like an idiot. _Did I do it wrong? Or was there something I..._

Her internal monologue trailed off as she caught sight of a keyhole that was shaped suspiciously like the claw in her hand. A keyhole her 'keen archer's eyesight' had earlier missed. The palm of her free hand made close acquaintance with her forehead in the moments that followed. "That would make sense, now wouldn't it?"

She slid the key easily into its lock, and turned it. When she heard a loud crack and a slow rumbling, she abruptly removed the key from its lock, and stood back as the door slowly slid into the floor. If she'd been discouraged by the size of this particular barrow before, she felt positively overwhelmed now. The cave that lay beyond the massive door- now slid fully into the floor- was enormous. Not only that, but it was almost unnervingly still and calm. Calmer than even the rest of the barrow, as at least that had the lively accompaniment of fleeing bandits' footsteps.

Now, the only footsteps that echoed here were Mohana's own, which sent a chill of fear down her spine. The echoes of her quiet, crouching footsteps called down a swarm of bats from the ceiling, causing her to throw her hands up to shield her face from the flapping rodents. When at last the swarm of bats had cleared, she continued across the stone bridge and up the stairs to the stone platform in the center of the room.

_I don't like the looks of this. At all._ Mohana thought with a shiver. Surrounding her on the platform were a treasure chest, a massive coffin, and a stone wall with some strange text inscribed on it. Standing near the wall of text made her head twinge unpleasantly, so she avoided it in favor of standing closer to the coffin.

_Best I don't make too much noise, or anything that's in there might wake up._ she thought, gently edging closer to the treasure chest. _Perhaps I'll get lucky, and the Dragonstone will be in here..._

Naturally, Mohana was not lucky. In the chest, she found a steel sword that felt as though it had some magic on it, a set of heavy iron boots and a spell scroll for a spell to repel weak undead. _Well that would have come in handy earlier. Much. Earlier._

She groaned in frustration, running her fingers through her hair as she scoured every corner of the chest for something more. Her efforts produced nothing. _No Dragonstone in here..._ _I wonder if maybe it's over near that weird wall._

Despite the fact that even standing near it gave her a horrible headache, Mohana saw no other way to try to gain the Dragonstone than to step directly towards the wall of strange text. A ringing began in Mohana's ears, resonating so loudly in her head that her vision began blurring before her. She leaned against the text-covered wall for support as the ache grew from a strong pulse of pain to a head-splitting wave that filled her entire skull. Even though the corners of her vision rapidly darkened, Mohana could swear that she saw faint blue light emanating from some of the text on the wall.

_What in Oblivion...?_

Her head split in agony, and then, suddenly, the pain stopped. She stared at the wall of text before her, and found it rendered in front of her face as plainly as the common written language.

**_Here lies the guardian_**

**_Keeper of dragonstone_**

**_And a FORCE of unending_**

**_Rage and darkness_**

"That's... really bizarre..." Mohana murmured, noting how the word FORCE seemed to jump out past all the others, imprinting itself into her mind. "'Fus'... how strange..."

A sudden cracking noise shattered the silence of the air around her, making her leap in surprise with a girlish shriek. She watched in abject horror as a Draugr, much bigger and more heavily-armored than any she'd seen before, slowly clambered its way out of the coffin that once held it. Its glowing blue eyes fixated on her, and she barely remembered in time to arm herself before it began approaching her.

**"RO DAH!"**

Mohana lost her footing and staggered backwards as sonic waves poured from the throat of the Draugr standing before her. She lost her aim with her bow, and barely managed to sidestep the Draugr's first strike at her chest. She loosed her first arrow, and cursed herself thereafter for not waiting until she gained a little more distance. The Draugr was looking at her again, swinging a weapon that misted with cold towards her head. Seeing no other option, Mohana turned her back on the creature and fled, leaping into the creek which ran through the cave. She crouched and waited, her form concealed by the shadows of the bridge until the Draugr seemed to have forgotten she was there.

She stepped out of cover, crossed up to where she could get a clear shot, and fired. Once the arrow was loosed and she was sure it had hit its target, she fled back to her hiding spot beneath the bridge, there to wait for her opponent to forget about her presence. She repeated this pattern until finally, the undead foe she faced collapsed backwards onto the hard stone.

She approached the dead thing with a look of disgust upon her face, her eyes zeroing in on a pouch it seemed to be wearing. She pulled the pouch from it, and therein found the very thing Farengar had sent her to the barrow to fetch. At least, she sincerely hoped that it was the Dragonstone she held now in her shaking hands. She pocketed it, and sighed.

_All right, now that's done, I just need to get this back to Whiterun as quickly as possible. The sooner I finish that, the sooner I can find a place to just. Lay. Low._

* * *

><p>After a very brief stop in Riverwood to hand the Golden Claw back to its owner Lucan (for which Mohana received a healthy 600 septims), Mohana proceeded swiftly along the way towards the great walled city of Whiterun once more. The guards did not trouble her this time as she passed, and she walked in to both the city and Dragonsreach without issue.<p>

She could hardly be bothered to pay attention to Farengar's excited ramblings after she turned the Dragonstone over to him, and simply asked, "Who do I see about my reward for this?"

"You'll have to speak to Jarl Balgruuf about that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm very busy examining these translations." the Whiterun court wizard answered curtly.

If nothing else, certainly Farengar's attitude made Mohana want to purge him from the banks of her memorable encounters since her flight from Helgen. The condescending mage's smug, self-righteous bearing would drive the most patient priestess of the Divines to murder.

She stepped back out into the main hall and saw no sign of the Jarl. But she did catch sight of a very stressed Irileth running into the room she had just vacated. "Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon has been sighted nearby."

The word 'dragon' tore at Mohana's memories, filling them with cascading, burning rubble and a massive grey beast roaring and splitting the air and her head. She shook her head as if to clear it, and followed Irileth up the stairs to meet Jarl Balgruuf and one of the border sentries of the Whiterun Hold.

The 'big' and 'fast' creature the sentry described in frustratingly vague terms only made Mohana's recollections of the disaster at Helgen even more vivid. She remembered now what her blurred vision wouldn't let her see before. Imperials she'd once served beside in the Legion being burned to crisps. One of the Legion's finest mages got snapped up in the maw of the great beast, and was being shaken with the sickening crack of bone.

She found herself nodding mechanically in response to Jarl Balgruuf's recommendation that she go with Irileth to take care of the potential dragon menacing the western watchtower. Despite having no clue what to do, having been one of the few survivors of Helgen currently in Whiterun, she'd be best able to help.

Being suddenly placed under Irileth's command snapped Mohana out of her nightmare-like state. The sudden clarity that reached her mind made her feel as though she'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. Serving in a military capacity under a strong-willed commander, _this_ was the life she knew well. She followed her temporary commanding officer as she ran through the city of Whiterun, meeting her and the rest of the Whiterun guard at the checkpoint not far from where the dragon had supposedly been sighted and attacked.

"No signs of any dragon right now," Irileth began, scanning the area, "but it sure _looks_ like he's been here."

Mohana straightened, and made sure her hood was fully concealing her face as Irileth looked directly at her and addressed the gathered soldiers. "I know this looks bad, but we've _got_ to find out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out, and look for survivors! We need to know what we're dealing with."

The Bosmer didn't need telling twice. She pulled her bow from her back, and held it at the ready as she walked around the Western Watchtower, looking for anyone who might have seen the dragon and lived to tell the tale. She tried to step into the tower, only to be halted by two Whiterun guards hiding therein.

"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

Mohana made to do as she was told when an eerie roar not unlike the one she experienced at the executioner's block echoed through the night sky.

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again!"

Panic was swiftly overtaking the ranks of the gathered guards and soldiers. It was only by focusing on Irileth's harsh orders that Mohana was able to avoid being drawn into the mood of panic herself.

"Here he comes! Find cover, and make every arrow count!"

Nodding in understanding, Mohana crouched amidst the weeds and bushes out in the field. It was weak cover, but in the night, she hoped it would be enough so that she could still see the dragon coming. She waited for a few tense moments. And then, the moment of judgment arrived.

She heard the beast sooner than she saw it, for its color nearly blended in to the aurora-filled night sky. The sound of gigantic wingbeats and its headache-inducing roars reached her long before her eyes could spot the beast. She carefully held her breath and focused each shot before she fired. But even with all her best efforts to aim properly, most of her arrows still missed. Irileth seemed to be doing the most damage of anyone present, blasting the dragon with lightning from the ground.

Whenever the beast landed, Mohana took advantage of the opportunity to pepper it with arrows from her hiding place before it took flight again. However, her meager excuse for cover was soon sacrificed to the hungry flames the dragon was belching towards her comrades, forcing her to abandon her safe hiding place. The dragon's eyes widened as it beheld her, and she loosed the very last arrow she had on her person.

The arrow sailed through the air, nailing the dread beast right between its eyes. Its back arched up as it reared in its death throes, flame billowing from its throat as it screamed to the heavens, _"Dovahkiin! Niid!"_

When the echoes of the creature's voice finally died down, its body fell lifelessly to the ground, leaving a massive corpse laying before Mohana, Irileth, and the Whiterun Guard.

"Let's make sure that overgrown lizard is really dead." Irileth ordered, sending some of the guards to examine the corpse. Mohana smirked when she continued on to add, "Damn good shooting boys!"

But as the guards investigated the body, something strange happened. Irileth ordered the guards back, but Mohana stood there, transfixed by the spectacle she saw. It was as if the entirety of the dragon's body were being slowly consumed in flame. Bit by bit, scales and flesh were eaten away from the dragon's form in a soft, golden light until all that was left were the bones of its massive skeleton. Mohana felt a powerful breeze blow almost right through her, a warmth and wave of understanding sweeping through her entire being.

Her mind went nearly immediately to the strange words she'd seen on the wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, particularly to the word 'Fus', Force. She now understood what it meant in a way she hadn't before. She couldn't explain what the level of understanding was, or how it was different, but the sound of the word 'Fus' now resonated through her throat. She felt ready to use the word, to project its true meaning and show her new understanding to others. The urge was nearly irrepressible.

So irrepressible that when a guard approached her, questioning her about some myth or other to do with dragons and those born of them, her Voice leapt from her throat, unbidden, projecting its Force across the guards. They each staggered back a step or two before staring at her in a combination of fear and wonderment.

With all the stares upon her, Mohana was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable, so she sheathed her bow and began to run full-tilt back towards Whiterun.

_What in Oblivion was that? Why did I just shout that odd word at them? And why did it cause them all to react like that?_ she thought, her musings punctuated by her rapid footsteps up the sloping hills to the gates of Whiterun.

Barely had she managed to arrive within Whiterun's gates before her earlier headache from the wall of text returned, only now stronger and more agonizing than ever. It seemed the very stones beneath her feet trembled, along with every building in the area. Her heart tugged painfully in her chest as her ears finally comprehended the force that seemed to hold all Skyrim at its mercy.

**_DO VAH KIIN!_**


	4. Rhapsody -Movement III-

_Song of the Dragonborn_  
><em>Rhapsody<em>  
><em>Movement III<em> 

As she ascended the steps into Dragonsreach, Mohana heard the uneasy whispers of the guards and the few townspeople still milling about at that late hour. Apparently the voice she'd heard and felt ringing all the way to her core wasn't just in her head- every single person in Whiterun, and she presumed all of Skyrim, had heard it as well. They all wondered what it could mean. She heard snatches of their conversations, but none of the words made any sense to her. 'Greybeards'. 'Dragonborn'. 'High Hrothgar'.

The word 'Dragonborn' stuck out to her more than any other, for it had been what some of the soldiers gathered at the scene of the dragon-slaying had called her after she'd shouted that strange word she'd learned earlier at them.

_What in Oblivion could they possibly mean by Dragonborn?_ Mohana wondered as she pushed open the doors to Dragonsreach.

Jarl Balgruuf was slouched in his throne, waiting on her to report back with the news from the Western Watchtower. "So, what happened at the Watchtower? Was the dragon there?"

Thankful her eyes were hidden under the hood so the Jarl couldn't see them rolling, Mohana replied, "Oh yes. The watchtower was completely destroyed, but your dragon problem's taken care of."

"And we cannot thank you enough for that. This was a mighty deed. By my right as Jarl, I now name you Thane of Whiterun, and confer to you all the honor that entails, Ashtoret. You've done a great service for me and my city, and I'll not forget that." Jarl Balgruuf replied, making his declaration of thane-hood known to his aid, Proventus. His expression went from grim to pensive in the next moment. "But... there must be something else. Did something strange happen when the dragon was killed?"

Mohana hesitated for a long moment before answering. "I might be something called 'Dragonborn.'"

The Jarl's eyes went as wide as those of the guards at whom she'd shouted. "Dragonborn? What do you know about the Dragonborn?"

Mohana simply shrugged in response. "That's just what the men called me after the battle. It felt like I drew some sort of power or understanding from it as it died, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

The Jarl of Whiterun shook his head to contradict her. "Not just the men. The Greybeards seem to think the same thing."

_There's another one of those terms I kept hearing again..._ Mohana thought. Aloud, she asked, "Greybeards?"

"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World."

_Seems very... meditative._ "What do these 'Greybeards' want with me? If all that noise earlier was them trying to get my attention."

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice- the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. If you truly are Dragonborn, they can help you to use your gift."

As the small crowd gathering around her began discussing her nature and fate- related to the Dragonborn, at any rate- Mohana found herself unpleasantly reminded of the final investigation her fellow Penitus Oculatus agents conducted on her upon Amaund Motierre's orders. In order to preserve herself from a triggering episode, Mohana turned her thoughts inward to see if she truly believed in all this, as Proventus was terming it outside of her mind, "Nord nonsense" of Dragonborns and Voices and Greybeards. Her gut had never lied to her about her beliefs before- and now was no exception. Logically, she wanted to discount the lot of it, as it seemed to fit neatly into the Nordic narrative of Talos worship, but her gut was screaming at her that nothing else about the strange events in Bleak Falls Barrow made any sense at all if she were _not_ Dragonborn.

"I suppose it would be worth looking into..." she murmured, almost as if outside of herself.

She stayed long enough to hear how to arrive at High Hrothgar from the Jarl, and then she set off on the long trip towards Ivarstead and the seven thousand steps that would lead her to her next destination.

* * *

><p>Ivarstead had proven particularly difficult to get to, and the directions from the Jarl had been less than helpful. Mohana found herself getting lost no less than four times before she finally managed to find the true path. When at last she found herself standing in the tiny little hamlet, it was nighttime on Turdas. It had been the middle of Morndas when she'd first set off from Whiterun after the fateful dragon slaying.<p>

To say that Mohana was exhausted and disgruntled would be an understatement. But to say that she was disheartened in her journey would be a bald-faced lie. If anything, the difficulty faced in even arriving at this point in her journey only strengthened her determination to ascend to the top of the steps where High Hrothgar and the Greybeards awaited.

_It's taken me this long to get here. I'll be damned if I let seven thousand measly steps stop me from reaching the Greybeards now!_ she thought, pushing back her tiredness and yearning for rest. She glared up at the seven-thousand steps, pulled her hood tighter over her head to prevent it from being blown back in the sudden breeze, and began her trek up the side of the Throat of the World.

* * *

><p><em>All around her were loud bangs and crashes. The night sky was filled with all sorts of pretty orange and purple lights. Flashes and crackling and dancing lights filled her vision with wonderment and her heart with a combination of awe and fear. She didn't understand what was going on, so she ran towards her mother and father for answers. She tugged on the sleeve of her mother's robes, trying desperately in her childish way to get her attention. "Mama? Mama, what's going on?"<em>

_Gentle brown eyes filled with fear and concern looked down at her, tears shining in their depths. From just that look, Mohana could tell that something was horribly wrong with her mother, and she didn't know if she could fix it. She felt herself being swept into her mother's arms and held close. Her mother's voice was soft in her ears as she soothed, "Shhhshh, it's all right little one. Settle down, Mohana, nothing is going to hurt you..."_

_Mohana hadn't realized until that very moment that the pretty lights and loud noises were something to be worried about, so she began to act counter to her mother's advice, her voice growing into a loud and plaintive wail. Her screaming made the bangs cease for only a moment, and led a voice outside their tree-house say, "They're definitely in there. Break down the door."_

_Mohana felt her mother's arms close tighter around her, squeezing her, making it hard to breathe. The soft words of gentle comfort in her ears did nothing to ease her worry and her screeching, for she could hear beneath the soothing tone that her mother was panicked. A deep voice resonated through the corners of the house, making her cling now to her mother's shoulders. Moments later, her father entered the room._

_At first, the sight of her father filled her with a sense of comfort. Daddy was so strong. Surely he would take care of whatever was making Mommy so scared, right?_

_Her hope shattered in the next moment when she beheld the absolutely terrified look etched upon her father's face. He was in as much a state of panic as her mother, and looked worn out- almost like someone or something had injured him. His expression was grave as he turned to Mohana's mother and said, "We don't have much time. We have to pack up and leave."_

_Mohana felt her mother nod against her before she found herself being set down on the floor. She found herself looking into her mothers' eyes as the she knelt down to see Mohana eye-to-eye. "Little fairy, I'm going to need you to do something very important for me. Can you run and pack up all your clothes and toys like a big girl for me? Go as quickly as you can. It's like a race, dear."_

_She still didn't understand, but she nodded anyway. Mommy told her, so she needed to do it. She ran for her tiny bedroom, grabbed her little knapsack, and shoved as much as she could into its depths before rushing back out to meet her parents. Mommy and Daddy were standing there waiting for her, already packed. She saw that they had their weapons on them, and made sure she armed herself with the little dagger they had given her for her birthday that past year. _

_The flashes and bangs were back again, louder and brighter and more insistent than ever before. The little door of their house wouldn't hold for much longer. Mohana watched in bewilderment as her mother ran for the bedroom she and her father shared, shouting something about a treasure she needed._

_"Leave it, Hasna!"_

_Mohana let out a tiny squeak at the sound of her father's voice. He'd always been very kind and gentle before, but his tone in that moment was harsh, commanding. Frightening, even. Her mother stopped in her tracks, shrinking deep into herself in fear before nodding in understanding. Mohana felt herself being lifted into her mother's arms again, and she reached out weakly for her father._

_"Papa-?"_

_The look her father had on his face when he turned to face her that time was nothing short of pure devastation. "I'm sorry, little fairy. Go with your mother. Stay safe. Papa loves you very much."_

_Her mother seemed to understand her father's words more than she did, and held her closer in her arms. As the door crumbled from the weight of the arcane assault barraging it, her little head dropped against her mother's shoulders, tears streaming from closed eyes as she heard her father draw his sword and cry out, "Never should have come here-!"_

* * *

><p>The corpse of a Cave Bear laid before her, no less than five arrows sticking out of its body. Mohana smirked, quite satisfied with her efforts as she began to skin it. As she did so, she found herself consumed by another wave of nostalgia. She could almost feel her mother's gently guiding hands showing her the proper way to skin a dead animal, the way to gain the most hide with the least effort expended. She remembered Hasna's arms and hands over her own, showing her how to shoot her very first bow so many years ago.<p>

When she'd trained with Faendal, Mohana had almost felt a sense of shame overwhelming her when she realized just how much she'd let the skills her mother taught her rust. Admittedly, she'd always much preferred using a sword and shield- they were the preferred weapons of her father, a once proud warrior of Valenwood. But she'd never been ungrateful for her mother's teachings of archery. Sadly, the further she rose after joining the Legion, the less she had to use her skills in archery until she'd nearly forgotten all she'd once learned.

Thinking on her days in the Legion brought to the forefront of her mind yet another memory dredged up from days long past.

* * *

><p><em>The armor of an Imperial Legionnaire was never known to be a particularly comfortable uniform, but Mohana found herself wishing that the studs weren't so annoyingly large and heavy as she stood, sweating in the Sun's Height heatwave that called itself weather. The blindingly bright bricks of Solitude were not helping her sense of discomfort and annoyance, as the sun in her retinas was forcing her to squint. <em>

_Her squinting was noticed by her commanding officer- a then freshly-appointed General Tullius- who approached her with a sharp note in his voice. "Eyes wide open, soldier. Can't see threats coming if your eyes are half shut."_

_Mohana bit back her snarky retort about how she wouldn't be able to see threats coming if she were BLIND either, and nodded in response, wrenching her eyes open. So much as she disliked her current state of discomfort, the thought of the proud expression that would rest on her father's face whenever she arrived home that afternoon kept her complaints at bay._

_It had taken rather a lot of effort on her part to get herself noticed and recruited into the Legion, especially with her mother's worry that joining the Legion would draw Thalmor attention to their family once more. But after a long and arduous process of training, re-training, and running errands for the Legates, she was finally accepted and welcomed into the fold. She stood next to her brothers-in-arms, a sense of pride filling her. She would serve Skyrim, serve the Empire and be glad of it. She was part of something more than herself, and it meant the world to her and her father._

_"Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire!"_

_Her heart swelled as she heard her voice echoed by those of her brothers-in-arms. This was an oath they all took and swore to uphold together. One that would last them until death. So they made plain with the next words spoken._

_"May those above judge me, and those below take me if I fail in my duty! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"_

_Upon the swearing of the oath, and the confirmation of their placement in the Legion, a cheer ran through the gathering. They whooped and celebrated for a long few moments before General Tullius quieted them and reminded them that they still had much training to do. Legionnaires they might have been, but there was always room for improvement, and the demands of the Empire were not, by any means, small. _

_But harsh training and harsher battles could wait for another day. This was a day for celebration. So she told herself as she ran home to proudly inform her mother and father in Dragon's Bridge of her acceptance into the Legion._

* * *

><p><em>They really do expect you to hold to that oath.<em> Mohana mused, folding her arms in around herself to protect her body from the harsh cold and harsher winds. The temperature had dropped further and further as she'd ascended the steps, leaving her freezing. _Loyalty and success for life, or you die. At the time, I thought nothing of it... and I wish I had. Knowing then what I know now, would I still have taken that oath...?_

She shook her head to clear it. _Never mind. No sense worrying about it now. What's done is done, and all in the past._

She gazed up at the imposing amount of stairs which stood before her, mocking her ascent towards the monastery where the Greybeards resided. _I think I've passed up half these stairs already. Three thousand five-hundred steps behind me, three thousand five-hundred steps to go. _

She gritted her teeth and held her arms closer around herself, and forced herself to climb up the stairs again.

* * *

><p><em>The cold of the prison cell seeped into her bones, leaving her folding in on herself like an infant. She somehow doubted the bruises given her by her fellow Penitus Oculatus agents would heal any time in the near future, leaving her milky tan skin painted in splotches of red and purple. Finger-shaped splotches. <em>

_It had been weeks since she'd had a proper meal, longer still since she'd been able to get a decent night's sleep. Now her every night was haunted by nightmares and nightmarish memories of The Katariah. The time of happiness she'd experienced, the fellowship of the Legion, when the threat of civil war was but a distant whisper, seemed a distant memory. Almost like a dream._

_Now, her hours were dominated by hunger, cold, and fear. Sharp tongues and sharper weapons pointed in her face. Inquisitors and torturers seeking information from a screeched-raw throat that could give no more. No, she didn't know Savri was an assassin before the incident aboard the Katariah. Yes, she'd been playing poker with a comrade of hers that night, but no, she did not do it with the intent of letting an assassin slip onboard. She knew nothing of the Stormcloaks' actions, nothing of the Dark Brotherhood. Nothing of Savri's ultimate fate, save that she ran her through. Yes, she should have acted sooner. No, none of this was planned or deliberate. She didn't mean, didn't want for any of this to have happened!_

_Her sentence had already been decided, they informed her earlier. As if it had ever been in question. For the crime of allowing the Emperor to die on her watch, and daring to survive the ordeal, she was to die a traitor's death. _

_Though the crime of sedition had lain only with her parents- and only to the Thalmor- she was to pay the price in blood for the actions of another. It simply wasn't fair, that they laid all blame at her feet. As if they could have done anything to prevent catastrophe aboard the ship themselves. _

_She traced her fingers over her ribs, which felt much closer to the surface of her skin than she would have liked. Another shiver of cold ran through her, and she curved her body further in on itself. She felt barely more than a foot tall, and wanted to squeeze herself into that small of a space. Her fate filled her with a void comparable to the one dwelling in her stomach, made her wish her existence would simply cease then and not wait for the headsman to do his job._

_Better to die now, and not give them the satisfaction of her head and her lost honor later. But there was no means she had to take her life. Not readily. Not easily. So she waited, dead inside, for her fate to finally arrive._

* * *

><p>Her legs felt like water, her knees ready to quake and collapse beneath her. Her eyes were frozen open and nearly rendered blind in the wind and snow and rising sun, but at last, at <em>last<em> she had managed to arrive at her final destination. High Hrothgar was just ahead, the entrance to the temple in sight. She wasted no time in making a break for the entrance, straining with every muscle in her body to pull the stone doors open before stepping inside and closing them behind her.

The sudden change in temperature and lighting delivered an unpleasant shock to Mohana's system at first. The influx of soft heat felt as if it were burning her numbed body, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness that lurked inside the temple's walls. Outside, the winds shrieked and howled in her ears- in here, the silence was nearly deafening. When at last she found herself adjusting to the change in environment, she stepped forward- only to find a figure standing in the center of the main hall in wait for her.

"So... A Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

The voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to resonate endlessly in the close, quiet space. As the figure approached her more closely and stepped into the torchlight, Mohana saw that they Greybeards received their name for their wisened appearances as well as their devotion to an ancient art.

Her old sense of duty was filling her once more, and she answered, "I'm here to answer your summons."

The old master nodded. "We will see if you truly have the Gift. Show us, Dragonborn, let us taste of your Voice."

_A taste of... my Voice? _Mohana wondered, confusion writing itself on her face. _Ah. He must mean that power, that strange word I used earlier._

Her throat was already vibrating in preparation for letting lose the power. She took a moment to remember what the word she had shouted earlier was, and then found it leaping from her throat on its own.

**"FUS!"**

The elderly man standing before her staggered back several steps, making Mohana's heart skip a beat or two in panic before she realized that he'd likely been faced with much more powerful voices in the past. When the Greybeard recovered, he said, "It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Angeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

Mohana hesitated for a long moment, taking some time to think over her answer very carefully. _In all the old tales I used to read as a child, when speaking to an ancient order you have to be extremely careful with your answers. Answer wrongly- or selfishly- and you forfeit your life as the price..._

Aloud, she replied, "I want to learn what it means to be 'Dragonborn'."

Arngeir, seemingly satisfied, nodded. "We are here to guide you in that pursuit. Just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."

Mohana blinked in surprise. "So I'm not the only Dragonborn?"

Arngeir sagely responded, "You are not the _first_. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift upon mortalkind. Whether you are the _only_ Dragonborn of this age... that is not ours to know. You are the only one who has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say."

_A gift from Akatosh? So is this supposed to be some kind of Divines-given blessing?_ Just that thought alone set her head to spinning. Her entire life had been spent rank and file, always hidden, nothing too special or spectacular. Even amongst the Penitus Oculatus, she was but one of the group. In uniform, they all looked the same. She wasn't anything all that special- until now. _I think Akatosh might have chosen poorly, in my case. I don't know the first thing about any of this...  
><em>  
>It was in reflecting on her own ignorance in the subject matter that she remembered the other reason why she came. "So you summoned me here purposefully, Master?"<p>

Master Angeir nodded slowly. "We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

"And what is my destiny?" Mohana asked slowly. _I don't know if I'm going to like this answer...  
><em>  
>"That- is for you to discover. We can show you the Way, but not your destination." Master Arngeir replied simply.<p>

With that answer, Mohana felt a surge of emotion in her heart. She could pursue this path and still be left with her freedom? The thought of something like that was simply inconscionable before. Perhaps it was simply the words spoken by the old master influencing her, but Mohana swore for a moment she could feel a dragon's wings stretching out in her heart- stretching as if it would soon take flight. The sensation elated her, and her excitement was clear when she said, "I'm ready to learn."

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift." Master Arngeir confirmed. His voice became grave as he spoke his next pronouncement. "But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen."

Mohana's discomfort with Arngeir's piercing question led her to physically squirm beneath his piercing gaze. _Can I do this...? Am I really ready?_

She abruptly shook off her doubts. _The fact remains that I have to be ready for... whatever this is. And if I'm not ready now, I'll stay here and train this gift of mine until I am ready._


End file.
